He let that go; and turning the conversation abruptly, as was his wont, to more personal ends, said—
"Tell me, do you like my name?"
"Schnapps-Wasser?" Shaping the word elaborately, she made a wry face over it.
"No—not that; my own name."
"But you have three."
"Yes; Hans, Fritz, Otto. Which of them you like best?"
"Fritz suits you best."
"Then will you always call me it?"
"Prince Fritz, Prince Fritz?—sounds like a robin," she said, trying it in musical tones.
"No, just Fritz; no more, only that."